


a forest of empty armor

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [95]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Animal Death, F/F, Fan Offspring, Illustrated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: A rural vacation among the Ampora, Makara, and Peixes clans results in a lot of family secrets coming to the surface and truths finally getting their day in the sun. The real question is not how things are resolved but what happens afterwards.Takes place immediately after "terezi pyrope and the infinite sadness"





	1. one fateful night

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter contains unwanted touching and an assault, so if you want to avoid being triggered please stop reading at "It’s a miracle she’s even alive with such a temperature." and continue reading at "Your body jolts awake". Though the second chapter talks about that assault, so just be careful, alright? - badAquatic

**== >Be Eridan, bored **

You should pat yourself on the back for making it halfway through Algebra-II. Usually, you’re checked out even before Mister Whatshisname starts talking about constants and variables. Now the board’s full of equations as long as your arms and something about degrees and standard forms are mentioned.

Yup. Time to bail.

You leave on the pretext of using the bathroom but everyone knows you’re not coming back. You head to your hiding spot at the bottom of the stairwell, where the journalism club stores the unsold copies of the school paper. You sit among the boxes and read through Troll Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It’s an ancient copy but a classic nonetheless.

You’re almost at the part where Troll Sirius Black first appears as the menacing black dog when your palmhusk vibrates. When you see who’s messaging you, your stomach sinks.

Feferi.

You guess this is _it_ then. You should have known this message was coming even after avoiding her for a few days. Gods, you’re so stupid. You had one thing to tell her and instead of being cool about it, you blew things so out of proportion that your last interaction with Feferi can only be on par with a New Fijian volcanic disaster.

You consider just avoiding the message but what you see immediately puts the thought of your head.

 

CC: eridan

CC: i dont feel so good

 

Six words have never made you feel so muddled. There’s not even a typequirk to go along with it…so whatever’s going down must be major. Too major for her to deal with alone and who does Feferi rely on? Not her idiot, bipolar flush crush but her faithful friend for years. You can’t help but feel a little smug at winning _that_ over the annoying yellow.

 

CA: wwhat’s going on, fef?

CC: i dont feel well

CC: can you do me a favor?

CA: sure!

CC: can you get me some aspirin

CC: i think i might be allergic to something

CC: and theres nothing in the cabinet and meenahs at work

CA: okay! i’ll be right ovver!

 

You can picture Feferi in your head. Like Sleeping Beauty, she lies motionless and helpless in her plight, waiting for someone with nobility and grace to help her through this time. She needs her perfect, coldblood prince.

First, you’ve got to get off campus. You’ve never skipped school in the middle of the day before but your classmates do it all the time. Not anyone _you_ know but you’ve seen them. It can’t be that hard to travel through the city, although it’ll be lonely. For you, the patterns are usually home and back on buses in the company of Feferi. You go clothes shopping with Feferi. You go food shopping with Feferi. All of the bland dishwater dull routines are done in her presence, making the world seem watercolor and perfectly warm despite her icy blood. As a result, you have a rudimentary idea of how to get around the city but there are huge gaps concerning New Jack’s downtown area.

Still, you risk it for her. Your luck is shitty and opportunity is finally knocking.  You waste no time in concocting your escape from the campus, using the back entrance route that the buses use at the end of the day. You head to the bus stop, use your student ID to waive the fee, and you’re off. You have a minor mishap on the way home, thinking Fairmont Street is closer to your neighborhood. It’s not. You get dropped off at Fairmont Shoppes and have a half-mile walk until your trailer. You curse and growl but walk anyway.

At least the weather is nice. The sky is overcast and the air smells of rain, promising New Jack’s famous April storms. You like the moisture but you’re afraid of the power getting knocked out again. Though the weather can’t fix all your dispositions. By the time you get to Two Boot Drive, your feet are aching from your old sneakers. You’re relieved when you get inside the trailer and can slip them off. They’re so old and nearly falling apart that it’s a miracle they’re still held together at all.

Your grandfather’s truck isn’t in the driveway so you won’t have to deal with him. He always wants _something_ from you, even if you’re busy. It’s always ‘Eridan, go down to the store and buy soda’ or ‘Eridan, go buy some food’ or ‘Eridan, get me a soda’. If it wasn’t for the laws, he’d have you buying booze and cigarettes too.

Now, you need money to get aspirin. You’re broke but your grandfather isn’t. You don’t know what he does for a living, aside from that it keeps you from being completely destitute. Whatever it is, it requires a truck and he always gets paid in cash. Said cash is always on the kitchen table because you’re the one who’s always running to the store getting this and that. Your grandfather only gets pissed if you spend too much…but he doesn’t keep a close eye on _all_ the numbers. A bit of cash for Feferi won’t hurt anybody.

You extract a few boons from the cash envelope, stuffing them into your wallet when you hear a noise from your grandfather’s bedroom. A cough. It’s not an unusual noise. You’ve heard it since November when your grandfather had a cold that wouldn’t leave his body.

Still, it’s never been so loud before.

You also wonder where the truck is if he’s here. Did it break down again?

A small peek won’t hurt, so you inch to your grandfather’s door. There’s a sizable crack and a briny stench is leaking out from the room. You usually don’t look into your grandfather’s room and avoid being in his personal space, but you’re his descendant. You have to look out for him.

Your grandfather is hunched over his recuperacoon. He coughs wetly into a napkin, spitting up something wet and violet. He pulls the cloth away from his mouth and it’s smeared with blood. He shudders and crawls back into the recuperacoon, shutting his eyes. You get a glimpse of his back and see it’s covered in scars and hard lumps.

You cover your mouth so you don’t gasp. You move away, back to the front entrance where you hope he can’t hear you. You lean against the wall and close your eyes, but you can’t get the image out of your head. All those scars and the sight of blood…your stomach heaves but thankfully nothing comes out.

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself.

You…you’re overreacting. Like everything in your life, you’re just being a total drama queen about it. This is not a big deal. Your grandfather is old, but everything is fine. The lights and water are still on in the trailer. The cable…has been disconnected for a while, but since then you don’t have to worry about food.

Feferi needs you. Hell, your grandfather would be proud of you for taking the initiative with her. Your grandfather can take care of himself.

If you’re going to help Feferi, you need to look the part of her gallant prince. You make sure to walk lightly as you head to your room to prepare. You don’t have much in the way of ‘nice’ clothes, but you can look a bit more presentable. You comb, tweeze, clip, shave, apply lotion, and splash your grandfather’s cologne. It stinks but it should overpower the Ninth Ward’s burnt plastic odor that seems to be on _everything._  

Only when you’re properly prepared do you leave the trailer for Park Avenue and head into the 7-11. You always get the medical supplies from here and it's surprisingly potent stuff: the kind for truck drivers, long commuters, and people working third shift use. They have a pharmaceutical rainbow, from powdered, baby, and adult sizes. You know Feferi mentioned not feeling well but she didn’t tell you symptoms.

Just so you don’t have to make _two_ trips, you message Feferi.

 

CA: hey fef what symphtoms are you havin

CA: *sympfoms

CA: no shit its *sympthoms

CA: fuck it wwhats going on wwith you

CA: like coughin sneezin runny nose or just a migraine?

CA: fef?

 

No response. She’s definitely online but the green dot mocks you with its silence. Feferi is the ultimate example of netiquette, always going to _Away_ even when she’s going to be away from the keyboard for just five minutes.

Unless she doesn’t know she’s going to be away.

Shit. Maybe you should have hurried up in getting ready or at least checked on her. Still, you didn’t want to go to Feferi empty handed. You couldn’t be her prince and show up with _nothing._ You’re sure Feferi will understand. You get her aspirin and Pepto-Bismol, paying quickly and leaving the store.

The weather doesn’t hold up and the neighborhood goes from miserable overcast to dark and rainy. Your glass fog up and you have to run, kicking up puddles as the streets gradually turn muddy. There’s no sidewalk on Park Avenue, so you keep to edge of the road to avoid getting hit by the speeding cars. You avoid the cars but can’t avoid the larger puddle this hit. You get doused in water twice but it’s no big deal. You’re a seatroll and you chose plastic instead of paper.

When you get to Two Boot Drive, it’s entirely muddy. Water soaks into your shoes and you feel like you’re walking through pudding. The skies rumble, flashing with promised lightening. You go to the Peixes trailer, huddled under the doorway awning in the home of maintaining _some_ dryness.

“Fef!” You call. You ring the doorbell but there’s no answer. “Fef?”

You move to knock on the door but it pushes inward. The inside of the trailer is dark and empty. You step inside, shutting the door behind you. You turn on the living room light, pushing wet hair out of your face. The remains of breakfast are on the dining table along with a tipped over glass of water that’s spilled its contents on the table.

You move forward, placing the 7-11 bag on the dining table.

“Fef?” you call.

Still no answer. Immediately, a hundred different scenarios run through your head. Did the ambulance from for her? Did she go to Sollux because you took too long? You suppress your fear and start scouring the trailer.

The bedroom is empty and pristine, as is Meenah’s room and the bathroom. The kitchen is a disaster area. Raw chicken breast is sitting on the counter along with a tipped over bottle of stuffed olives. The cupboards are open and a box of raisins has fallen on the ground. There’s a pan on the unlit stove.

The back door is open, letting in rain.

Feferi is standing in the middle of the backyard. She’s wearing a black nightgown, soaked to the core. She looks up into the sky, not facing you. You call her name but there’s no response. You leave the trailer, heading out in the waterlogged yard. You take her hand and then she…looks at you. Her hair is so long and wet that it almost covers her entire face. She looks at you but her pupils are pinpoints, focusing on… _something._

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m such a shitty friend.” You gently pull her toward the trailer.

For a moment, Feferi doesn’t move. She’s much bigger than you and there’s no way you can move her on your own. Then, eventually, she walks along with you. You lead her back inside just as the lightning comes. You shut the door behind you, making sure to lock it.

Feferi says nothing. She’s soaked to the core, dripping water all over the tiled floor like some drowned ghost.

“I got you some meds, though I didn’t know exactly what symptoms you had.” you say.

Feferi says nothing.

You lead her to the living room. She doesn’t sit down right away so you have to guide her. You feel her forehead and feel an unusual heat through her skin.

“You have a fever.” You look at her unfocused eyes, “I’ll get a thermometer and some towels, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Feferi stares at you as if she’s as blind as Terezi.

You don’t stay away long because you’re afraid of what Feferi will do when she’s unsupervised. When you return with a mountain of towels for the both of you, Feferi is sitting on the couch, looking like she’s afraid a bomb is going to go off. You wish you could know what’s going through her head. You dry her off first, trying to get rid of the moisture as much as possible. Feferi says nothing and doesn’t look at you, even when you make jokes.

 

 

You’re starting to feel concerned. She’s never been like this before. It can’t just be the fever and there are no injuries on her? Could she be…uncomfortable with you after what happened last time? Shit, you’d rather not talk about that disaster, but this silent treatment is making you more nervous the longer it goes on.

“Hey, uh,” you say, “I know last time we talked was…awkward. I just wanted you to know how I felt. I just thought you should know that you don’t always have to settle for the first troll who comes along. I…really _care_ about you, Fef.”

Feferi looks at you. Her eyes are so big and beautiful and you touch her face. Feferi tilts her head, looking at you with a face flushed from a fever. Then she reaches out and touches your neck, stroking the skin there. It’s easy to forget how icy cold her temperature is, even colder than yours. It’s a miracle she’s even _alive_ with such a temperature.

You kiss her. Her lips are cold and cracked, with a faint hint of blood. Her hand is still on her neck. Being so close, you realize how good she smells and how much you want to be _close_ to her.

“Fef?” you ask.

Feferi leans in close.

“Who the hell do you think you are, boy?” she whispers in Old Alternian.

Feferi digs her claws into your throat—sharp nails piercing skin and tearing at your gills. You try to yell but you cough from the blood and pain. Feferi shoves you onto the ground with a single push. She wobbles to her feet, swaying like a broken doll and hovering over you. You try to choke out an apology but you’re coughing too hard to speak a word. Blood runs from your throat and gills, clinging to your cold skin.

She seizes you by the horns, looks you in the eye.

“Do you think,” she whispers, still speaking that hideous ancient tongue, “that it would be so easy?”

You can’t get away from her. Her grip is like old iron, made unmovable by rust and the violence in her eyes is obvious. Whoever this is, it’s not Fef. You choke and bleed on the floor and you can’t get away. They are still speaking in Old Alternian but you can hardly hear her. Her bloodied claws are tearing your clothes, holding you in place. You’re begging her to stop but she can’t hear you.

No one can hear you. All you have are your bloodied screams.

 

Your body jolts awake, rocking in the seat. You rub your eyes, blinking back into the present.

“Oh, come the fuck on! We have places to be, you hicks!” Sollux growls.

You look around the car, trying to get your bearings as to what’s going on. You’re sitting in a car with traffic on both sides of the road. There’s a lumbering hippopotamus of a truck in front of you, overburdened with old wood and chopped grass. Sollux is cursing out the driver. Dmitry and Suxxor are arguing about something in the backseat.

“If that asshole breaks down…” Sollux glances at you, “Hey, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Bad dream.” You mutter.

You take a few calming breaths, reminding yourself that you’re not a kid anymore. The thing with Feferi happened…what, two years ago? It’s not a big deal and you’ve honestly moved past it. Everything about your old life has been erased with the passage of time.

Still, you should tell someone about this. Maybe Karkat. He knows how to deal with the occasional nightmare. You get out your iHusk but there’s no reception.

“This place fucking sucks.” You growl, putting away the device.

“ED, it’s just a weekend.” Sollux sighs, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Lusii could eat us.” you say, “We could all catch a virus from the water. Maybe a tsunami will come in and drown us all while Fef complains about how _I’m_ the worse parent.”

Sollux rolls his eyes. “You are _both_ such drama queens.”

“I am not!”

You spend the next fifteen minutes arguing about who is the bigger drama queen. The best thing it does is that it passes time until the truck pulls over to the side of the road and you can pass it. You continue down the long stretch of highway for the next twenty minutes until you arrive at the camp. You take the dirt road into a dirt parking lot (the sight of which only lowers your expectations about the level of civilization you’re about to deal with). Next to the dirt parking lot is a large building, which you assume is the central camping hall. Then it dips down into a path heading toward the beach and several cabins in the woods sitting against the tall grass. There’s also a more traditional camping ground, a bonfire area, and tennis court.

In other words, the typical kind of place you’d see at the beginning of a slasher movie.

As soon as you get out the car, you’re on a tight schedule. You do the preliminary leg stretches and then get to work on the boys before they can run off. You grab Suxxor first, spraying him down with a chemical mist of bug spray while he whines. Dmitry also whines but it’s more about the chemicals messing with his hair. While you’re doing this, Sollux is getting the luggage and watching you wrestle with your sons.

“I finally got it the way I wanted and you’re _ruining it!_ ” Dmitry whines as you spray his hair and face.

“Would you rather get malaria?” you ask.

“Yes!” Dmitry insists.

“You don’t even know what it is!” you say.

Dmitry runs off with a hiss. “I don’t care!”

You sprint after your son. “Dmitry, get back here! I need to do your legs!”

Five minutes later, you have seized Dmitry and the Nitram-Makaras have arrived. Torken is holding a jelly jar full of change and Simham is pestering Gamzee about something. Gamzee looks like he’s just bored dealing with the summer heat. His coldblood genetics are adapted for this kind of abrasive weather.

“Welcome to Bumfuck, Nowhere.” Tavros grunts.

Torken holds up the jar and Tavros sighs. He digs in his wallet and drops in a quarter.

“If your Mom keeps swearing, we’re going to have enough money for a new videogame!” Simham says.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sollux asks, pointing a thumb at Tavros.

“Mom didn’t wanna come.” Torken says.

Gamzee puts two bags on the ground and looks at his matesprit. “I told you could’ve stayed _home_.” he groans.

“And I said I was going to support you!” Tavros growls, “It’s fucking fine! I can make my own decisions!”

Torken holds up the jar. “Mom.”

Tavros drops in another quarter and continues arguing with his matesprit. They’re five minutes into it when another car pulls into the dirt lot next to them. Porrim is the first one out, wearing as little as possible in the warm weather with a low cut heart-shaped top and long striped pants. She stretches and looks at Tavros with a smirk.

“Looks like someone’s not a happy camper.” The jadeblood chuckles.

“Get bent.” Tavros growls.

Kanaya gets out of the car followed by Momeju, Feferi, and Meenah.

“Where’s Rufioh?” you ask, “I thought he’d be all gung-ho to hang in the woods.”

“He opted out. Apparently, there was an emergency involving…animals or something. I don’t really care.” Porrim holds up her iHusk, grinning. “I promised him I would take lots of pictures of his grandchildren being cute in the woods.”

“I’m going to pet a mountain lion!” Simham said.

“For the last time: _no_.” Gamzee says.

 “Yes!” Simham insists.

Once freed from the child seat, Momeju bolts from the car. At first you think your daughter is running at you, but no—she immediately seizes Gamzee’s leg in a fierce hug.

“Uncle Gamzee!” she squeals.

“Momeju!” Feferi calls. Meenah has already opened the trunk, which is stuffed full of luggage. You question how fast the car was moving behind weighed down. “Help us with the luggage!”

“No!” Momeju hisses.  

“Momeju, go help your mother.” You order.  

Momeju glares at you and sticks out her tongue. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Can I have my leg back?” Gamzee asks.

Momeju grins at her uncle. “No!”

“It’s fine. I got it.” Kanaya says. The jadeblood easily lifts three bags of luggage out the trunk and puts it on the ground.

“Jegus, Kan. You got enough bags to supply a small army.” Sollux says.

Kanaya gestures to Feferi. “ _I’m_ not the one who packed.”

“It never hurts to be prepared!” Feferi says over her shoulder but she’s still trying to command the attention of your daughter. _“Momeju!_ ”

Gamzee gives his leg a gentle shake. “Go to your Mom, kiddo.”

Momeju pouts but reluctantly returns to Feferi. The girl sulkily takes her bright pink luggage bag like she’s burdened with a thousand pounds by doing this minor chore. Before you can scold her (in the hopes that _one day,_ it’ll work on her) a white carapace approaches your group. They wear khaki shorts and a shirt with a button saying _Hi! I’m CR!_ They greet your families cheerfully, introducing herself as Canorous Rascal.

“But you can call me CR.” she says.

CR gives a tour of the camp and the CliffNotes of her life story: married thrice, divorced twice, she founded the camp with her wife to help bring their disjointed family together. At least they have bathrooms, though you question the water level and quality.

“We usually have multiple families but I was told you have a… _unique_ …situation.” CR says.

Meaning your family is too large and dysfunctional to be around others.

CR continues talking about the camp’s credentials and history, but you pay little attention. You keep your eye on Suxxor. Dmitry always stays close but Suxxor is prone to wandering, _especially_ when Torken is nearby.

After putting away your luggage in your designated cabins, CR introduces you to the other counselors. The kids get their own counselor in the form of two trolls who are probably a year older than you, an orangeblood and a rustblood named Mizzen and Bisque.

“Don’t worry!” says Mizzen, “We may be young but we’ve been working with kids for years! Your little ones are safe with us!”

“Yeah, but are you going to be safe with them?” Sollux grunts.

“It’s going to be fine.” Feferi says, “The camp isn’t _that_ big.”

“In case of emergency, we have walkie-talkies and emergency landlines in key positions, as cell reception is rather spotty out here.” CR adds.

That doesn’t put you at ease. Your skin crawls watching the kids go off with two strangers. They can’t be much older than you are and you’re just letting complete strangers handle them. This feels like the beginning of a horror movie. You’re already in a rural, empty camp. All you need is to learn that the camp is on an ancient amphibian burial ground and you’ll be set.

“Eridan.”

You almost don’t recognize the voice. You look to see Feferi standing next to you. She has the same worried expression as the kids go off with a total stranger. The kids don’t have a concern in the world as they head down another path. They’re excited to be away from you for a change with your constant worries and nagging.

“It…it’ll be okay.” Feferi says quietly.

You don’t know what to say. You can’t remember the last time Feferi looked so quiet and anxious. Meenah has a look of indifference on her face but Kanaya puts a supportive hand around Feferi’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” is all you can mumble.

While the kids are off at the lake learning about water safety, your adult group is brought to a sitting area around an unlit bonfire. You sit on logs positioned in a circle as CR lectures about family and togetherness—like you’re a group of cave trolls who don’t understand the concept of families and are still struggling not to eat your offspring upon seeing them. You grind your teeth and wish Karkat was here, or even Damara. You wish you had brought _someone_ who’d be just as annoyed as you are. Sollux looks equally bored or maybe he’s annoyed by the sun getting in his eyes.

 “Now, this is the talking stick.” CR holds up a small branch decorated with plastic beads and cheap feathers, “Whoever holds the talking stick means that it’s their turn to talk and everyone else listens. The key here to this session is to be hard on the problem, not the person involved. Listening is very important…”

You’re well beyond your breaking point but CR’s one sided dialogue about “I” messages and thinking before you speak forces you to open your mouth.

“We _know_ that!” you say, “It’s not like we’ve never tried talking before. We’re not a bunch of knuckle dragging idiots.”

“Eridan, let her speak!” Feferi says.

“Fef, we’ve known each other for _years.”_ You continue, looking into her magenta eyes. “Why are we acting like strangers?”

Feferi opens her mouth and then closes it. She looks more conflicted than you are and doesn’t look at you as she mumbles, “That’s the problem, Eridan. I think we have _too much_ history. We need a neutral party on this and we don’t know anybody who can fill that role.”

She raises a good point and you’re about to agree when Meenah opens her mouth.

“Oh, come on,” Meenah groans, “We wouldn’t have to be here if you weren’t so _stubborn_.”

“ _I’m_ stubborn?” you growl, “Why don’t you just admit that you still blame me for what happened and treat me like I’m a parasite!”

“I wasn’t even fucking talking to you!”

“You were looking at me when you said it!”

“I was looking in a general direction! Not everything is about you!”

“This isn’t helping--” Feferi says.

CR blows a whistle and the high pitch stutters your reciprocating argument to Meenah. You settle on scowling at her while Feferi rests her face in her hands.

“Wow,” CR says, “this is a _serious_ case of group disharmony.” The carapace slaps her fist into her palm. “We’re going to need the _big guns_ for this.”

“Please be actual guns…” Kanaya mutters.  

CR takes her walkie-talkie out. “BD, bring me… _the arts and crafts_.”

“Oh gods.” Sollux groans.  

When you see BD arrive with two tubs of arts and crafts supplies, you know it’s going to be a _long_ weekend.

CR divides your groups into two, letting you remain with Feferi, Kanaya, and Sollux by the unlit bonfire while the others head into the woods.

“And how is _this_ going to help?” you grunt.

“It’s been proven that group projects can help with discussions and focus.” CR says.

“Clearly you’ve never had the pleasure of being in a group project in high school.” Kanaya mumbles.

Feferi elbows her matesprit. “This isn’t going to work if we don’t give it a chance.”

“Meenah told me Momeju and Dmitry suffer from the occasional nightmare, so making a dreamcatcher could help.” CR continues.

“Aren’t those culturally insensitive?” Sollux asks.

“Well, yes, but we ran out of gimp for bracelets so this will have to do.” CR says, “Anyway, a ‘dreamcatcher’ is just a term to ease a child’s anxieties. It works on the same principle as a monster repellant or a nightlight. The significance of it is that you made it for your child. The shape, size, feathers…that’s all arbitrary. It’s the fact that you, as an emotional caretaker, care enough for your child to make something to ease their fears. That will matter to them versus if this is an authentic dreamcatcher or not. It’s just a word to use.”

Well…shit, that’s a good point. You guess. You’re actually not entirely sure on the whole controversy involving dreamcatchers and things like that. That’s more up Kankri and Terezi’s alley than yours. You look through the box of crafts, looking at the hoops, beads, and feathers offered.

Feferi looks at you and clears her throat. “…Dmitry has nightmares?”

It takes you a second to realize that she’s speaking to you directly and you have to think about the question for a few minutes. “It’s silly, actually.” You sigh, “Torken told him once about a monster in the woods and now he’s convinced one’s out there to get him. I keep trying to tell him it’s just road noise but he doesn’t believe me.”

Feferi smiles sympathetically. “At least that’s easy to manage. Momeju is scared of storms so it’s difficult to deal with her, especially in this season.”

“Does she crawl into your coon when you’re half awake? Because Dmitry does that all the time now.”

“No, she’s…weirdly stubborn about it? Like, she doesn’t want to admit that she’s scared but she’ll sleep outside the recuperacoon.”

“She does that with you too?” You had always thought Momeju’s refusal to share space with you was just an extreme dislike or just not being familiar with you. “I just thought she didn’t like me, or maybe she was moody.”

Feferi smiles. “Eridan, she’s like a year old. She has no real concept of ‘liking’ or ‘disliking’ you, or anyone I think. She’s just… _little_ and unfamiliar with you.”

“Is _that_ what we’re calling her crappy attitude: ‘unfamiliar’?” you grumble, “Do you let her talk to me the same way she talks to you?”

“No”—but then Feferi looks away—“but if I’m being honest…she doesn’t spend most of her time with me. Like I said, Momeju is pretty stubborn about how she wants things. If there’s anyone she hangs around a lot, its Meenah. Not that I can blame her. I’m usually so tired from school that I don’t do much so…”—she shrugs—“you know kids. They want someone with energy to hang around.”

“You can’t think it’s a good idea that Momeju hangs around her grandmother all the time.” Feferi sighs but you continue, “Are you forgetting how much she hates me? Because I sure as hell can’t.”

Feferi fidgets and starts toying with her hair, as she always does when anxious.

“I know, but…ugh, Eridan!” Feferi sighs, “You act like I’m in charge of how Mom feels. She’s her own person and, considering _everything_ that happened, I can’t _blame_ her for disliking you. I can easily forgive but Mom--”

“I get it,” you growl, “we’re _never_ going to be best friends but there’s a way to do it without making my daughter hate you. How do you think Momeju is going to grow up knowing her closest violetblood relative is considered garbage in her grandmother’s eyes? You can at least stand up for me!”

“To what point exactly?” Feferi throws her hands up in the air with a huff. “You’re putting a lot of blame on Mom’s part for how Momeju behaves, but she’s just that way with _everyone_! It’s not like Mom has an on-off switch to her brain!”

“Yeah, but she’s influencing her!”

“ _How_?”

Another whistle blow silences you both. You look away from Feferi and realize that you’re breathing heavier than you thought you were.

“My, that got out of hand quickly.” CR says, “You two were communicating well there for a while.”

Neither Feferi nor you say anything. There’s nothing you can say right now.

“I think we should break for lunch and regroup with the others,” CR says with a cheerful smile.  

You’re surprised so much time has passed. Every time Feferi and you talk, time seems to fly by as you devolve into an argument. You’re glad for the break though because you need to check in on the boys and make sure they’re not running the other counselors ragged with their antics.

Lunch is in the central building’s dining hall. You sit at long wood tables, eating oven made frozen pizza. Most of your time is spent tolerating being in Meenah’s presence and watching out for the boys. Dmitry gives Feferi a forlorn look and mostly ignores his food. Suxxor is trying to get Torken’s attention, as Torken is more interested in having a punching contest with Simham.

Momeju is loudly complaining to Kanaya about the bugs, the sunlight, and missing TV and other aspects of home. Kanaya listens and tolerates it in the same way everyone does with the kids in the neighborhood. Looking at the violetblood kit, it’s hard to see your features in her face. Aside from the blood type, Momeju looks very much like Feferi. She has Feferi’s wide face, gill shape, eyes, and nose. The only other evidence of your lineage are the violet streaks in her hair and the bend in her horns.

Momeju carries herself like a little queen, even more so than Dmitry.

Thinking about the distance between your daughter and yourself makes you lose your appetite. You let the boys have the rest of your pizza and you leave the dining hall. You step outside onto the porch surrounding the main building, looking off into the woodlands.

It doesn’t make you feel better. Being in the constant fresh air and sunlight just makes you long for home. You’re a city-dweller through and through and can’t tolerate all this awful _nature_. You have no idea why your grandfather tolerated it, or why he bothered bringing you along on those hunting trips. It’s not like you enjoyed yourself or learned anything about it, aside from the fact you hated both hunting and the outdoors.

You hear footsteps behind you and see Kanaya approaching out the corner of your eye. The jadeblood gives you an uneasy smile and you give one back. Even though she broke up with you, you still find her attractive. You weren’t right for each other but…damn, you miss that shapely ass.

“Having trouble taking it easy?” Kanaya asks.

“More than you can imagine.” you say, “So, what are you doing out here, Kan? I know Feferi and you were always friends but why’d you bother coming? This is a…year three relationship commitment.”

Kanaya raises her eyebrows. “You think you’re the _only_ one having issues with Meenah?”

“Seriously?” You roll your eyes. Meenah’s bullshit knows no bounds. “Jegus, that fuchsiablood wants to make an enemy out of _everyone_.”

“It’s really more just jadebloods in general. I think they make her…anxious for some reason.” Kanaya says.

“Still, Kan, I’d rather not see you get hurt.” Kanaya frowns and you explain, “You always go after ‘projects’, y’know? You liked Rose ‘cause she was a mess and then I was a mess and you like me. Feferi’s disappointing in her own right.”

Kanaya’s frown turns into a scowl. “From whose perspective is she ‘disappointing’?”

“I’m just saying--”

Kanaya’s shoulders sink, like a disappointed mother. “Unlike you, I never put Feferi on a pedestal of ‘sweet princess’ or ‘spoiled brat’. She’s a _person,_ just like you and me. I accept her for good and bad. That’s part of liking someone.”

“Ah, Kan, you don’t have to put it like _that_. I know what you mean.”

But now you wonder how much truth there is to her words. You always did see Feferi as the perfect princess who could do no wrong, but you were a lonely kid. _Anyone_ would be shining and perfect in your eyes. Of course, Feferi was never a threat to you either. That’s why--

“Eridan?” Kanaya asks.

You look at the jadeblood, scratching your gill scars. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring into space.”

“Huh. How about that…”

“Eridan…do…Feferi and you talk about what happened?”

 You roll your eyes. “Would you?”

“No,” Kanaya says, “but I wouldn’t have a child with that person.”

You don’t answer. Hell, you don’t even want to think about that night or any alternatives. Feferi was in a rush to forgive you and you’re fine with that. That night deserves to be left in the dusty shadows, along with every other creepy misery from your life over the past two years.

“It’s best to just leave it be.” You decide.  

Kanaya shrugs and walks off, having nothing more to say. You’re fine with that because you don’t want to talk about the topic anymore than she does. You return inside to find the kids are socializing in their own way, leaving you to be awkward with the other adults. Sollux is fiddling is looking over his notes from school, Gamzee and Feferi are talking, Kanaya is trying to speak to Meenah (and failing), and you’re stuck with Tavros.

Tavros and you haven’t spoken directly in a while. It’s very awkward but with your kids hanging around each other, you have to think of _something_ to do. You try to learn all the rules to the Fiduspawn card game. You don’t particularly understand it, but you’re there more for the conversation. You sit on the porch in front of the main building and watch the kids mess around.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taught Torken how to play like a pro.” you say.

“Nah, he’s not really interested.” Tavros glances at his son, who is busying wrestling Simham in the dirt. The other kits watch from the sidelines, with Dmitry and Momeju keeping their distance from the dust cloud. “Torken’s an outdoorsy kid like Khanie. He hates being cooped up in the house like I do.”

“If you like being inside the house, why’d you come all the way out here?”

“Same reason Sollux came here with you.” Tavros shrugs. “The boys wanted to come and I don’t want Gamzee to feel frazzled dealing with them. It can be a lot sometimes, even though he doesn’t want to admit it. I mean, isn’t doing things we hate but not making a big deal out of it the _point_ of a family?”

You smirk. “I think you made a pretty big deal out of it. Whose idea was it to bring the swear jar?”

Tavros rolls his eyes. “My mother because, _apparently,_ I curse too much. That’s what I get for working with a bunch of almost-sailors in a factory all day. There’s nothing to do but curse and complain.”

You laugh because 7-11 has you thinking the exact same sentiments. When you work at a certain hour, certain etiquettes are rubbed away and profanity flows freely. You can’t say you’re _friends_ with Tavros but he’s good company for when you have nobody else to turn to.

The break lasts only for an hour and then it’s back to your miserable ‘bonding’ activities. The group is split up again, with the kids going for an ‘educational hike’ in the woods. You have to pry Dmitry off you because he doesn’t want anything to do with nature. You can’t blame him (as nature _is_ gross), but you also can’t have him be around for the adult discussions.

You’re singled out from the rest of the group. At first you think you’re going to just be talking one on one with Feferi, but instead, it’s Meenah.

Which is…great.

Just great.

It’s just Meenah and you sitting around the unlit bonfire. The sun is directly above and there are no shady trees in the area to prevent forest fires. Meenah and you say nothing to each other, sitting as far apart as possible.

“It’s easy to see that a lot of the tension between your families is centered on your toxic relationship.” CR explains, “You two need to speak honestly with each other about how you feel. Now,”—CR approaches you and hands you the talking stick—“we’re going to let Eridan speak and don’t forget to use ‘I’ messages.”

Meenah growls and looks more pissed off than a large shark in a small tank. You resist the urge to take a picture of that because that image is definitely going to sing you to sleep tonight.

“Do we seriously have to do this?” you ask, “This isn’t some petty bullshit over who stole whose cookie recipe or getting snubbed for a party. We have really good reasons to hate each other. It should be over and done with--”

“Eridan,” CR says, gently, “please try and think about what _really_ bothers you about this relationship.”

You don’t know what to say mostly because no one has ever directly asked you to just…talk. Even when you were moirails with Feferi, she always had to cajole you into talking. The same goes for Karkat when you’re in a brotherly mood.

“This is still stupid.” you grunt, looking at the talking stick. “I get why Meenah doesn’t like me. I did shitty things to her family. I was a shitty kid. If the situation was reversed…I guess I’d be just as angry as her. But, I dunno. I want to…break the cycle of Amporas fucking up constantly?”

You’re not looking at Meenah as you talk. Talking about how you feel is a slow process and it feels like there’s a lump in your throat as you talk. Thoughts pour in slow like sand grains collecting in the bottom of an hourglass.

“ Like, grandpa was shitty.” you continue, “Cronus is indifferent. I fucked up and I don’t want Momeju to fuck up either and I don’t want her to feel…bad about herself.”

You fall silent because you don’t know what else to say. Your thoughts are foggy and you feel like if you stand, you’ll just fall over.

CR looks at Meenah. “See, Meenah? Eridan’s made his feelings very clear. Now, Eridan, give the stick to Meenah and she can talk.”

You stand and walk over to Meenah. As you give her the talking stick, you look into the fuchsiablood’s eyes.

There is… _nothing_ in them. Just a blank expression that tells you nothing about how she feels. You’ve seen that same look before on Gamzee’s face and you just...back away, like a frightened animal. You keep as much distance between Meenah and you as possible, just in case she lashes out.

“Eridan…” Meenah says and her voice is flat and icy as her blood. You think of another voice you heard and rub the aching pain in your gills. “…do you remember the night Feferi and you attacked each other?”

You don’t say anything. Of course, you remember that night. You’ll never _forget_ that night…but you don’t want to think about it. You _never_ want to think about it.

“I’ll never forget how I came home and the door was open.” Meenah says, “At first I thought we’d been robbed. I went inside and I saw Feferi with blood on her claws and you in the corner, with blood running from your throat. You were both…in shock.”

Meenah swallows and there is an uneasy warble in her voice.

“You know, I fucked up Gamzee’s life from the very start,” Meenah says, “so I did my best to protect Feferi…but I never could. So many terrible things happened to us and after her brother went away, she was so sad and withdrawn. I hated you, but I knew you had a special bond with her.  I never thought you would… _hurt_ each other like that. And I just don’t know what to fucking _do_ about it, okay? I didn’t prepare for something like this and then Feferi just smiles away and insists she’s fine with it, but she’s _not_!”

Meenah stands, turns around and looks at you. There are tears in her eyes, running down her face.

“None of us are just ‘fine’ with this situation!” Meenah continues, “Even though she tells me the gods have plans for everyone, things just keep fucking up! And I want things to be better but I can’t. It’s like everything I touch is just another life stolen away and I look at Momeju’s face and I…I just…shit! Fuck it!”

Meenah tosses the stick away, going further than you’ve ever seen her thrown everything. She walks away at a hurried pace, wiping her eyes. CR calls after her but the fuchsiablood continues walking away. You watch Meenah move down to the beach and sit in the sand. The waves move in and out but CR and you don’t move.

You don’t know what to say either. You’re drained from talking about your feelings, but you were expecting yourself to be the one to have a meltdown. CR exhales and sits on a log, debating about what she will do next. You consider going back to your cabin, maybe catching up on some reading but instead…you walk over to CR and sit next to her.

“Hey, this may be a violation of like patient’s rights or whatever,” you say, “but Meenah’s not the one who suggested we come here, did she?”

CR gives you a peculiar look and then shakes her head. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she says, “but I do work part time at the St. Quiana Child Care Center and I was noticing that Momeju and Dmitry have behavioral issues common with children having turbulent home lives. Seeing how your family interacts, I can understand why they act in different ways.”

You sigh. Of course, Meenah wouldn’t tell you how extensive Momeju’s behavior is and you doubt Feferi doesn’t know or maybe she’s just conveniently ignoring it.

“What’d she do _this_ time?” you sigh.

“It’s less about what she does and more _why_ she does it.” CR says, “Momeju is _very_ territorial for a troll her age and hemotype. Usually, her level of aggression and territoriality is commonly found in purpleblood children when they’re about three. When she can’t get things her way, she goes on the attack and that’s the real danger because, like her mother, Momeju is bigger than most troll children.”

“Don’t tell me she hurt someone.” You have enough trouble trying to keep Momeju from hurting Dmitry.

“Not yet. Time outs are effective on her as long as she has space from other children.” CR continues, “I think the root cause of Momeju’s aggression is that she does not have a ‘home’. Momeju’s life is disjointed. Her parental figures either dislike each other or are uncomfortable with her. Meenah tries to smooth over her behavior with material rewards, but it’s _not_ what she wants. Still, it’s consistent, so she’s territorial and she has no outlet for that pent-up aggression. She sees Dmitry with siblings, affectionate parents…you can understand why she dislikes him. She’s likely jealous of what Dmitry has, so she’s extra-aggressive with him.”

“Makes sense, since I’m always pulling them apart for a fight about toys or something equally stupid.” You sigh, “And let me guess, you want me to… _talk_ with Feferi about…what happened.”

CR nods. “Yes,” she says, “I know it’s uncomfortable for both of you but your mutual fear is only going to fester. I think this situation stresses everyone out because there is no direct communication. Feferi said that after the attack, you two were actually communicating.”

“Yeah, but…things change.” you say, “We used to be alright with each other but ever since the kids were laid…it's _weird_ , you know? I can’t blame her for not wanting to be around me.”

“Things are only going to get worse if you don’t talk.” CR says gently, “I know this is difficult, but it’s for the benefit of your children.”

You think of your kids and everything you do for them. You’d move mountains for those kids…so what’s the big deal of this other mountain?

“Fine.” You sigh.

CR smiles. “Thank you so much for this, Eridan. I know it takes a lot of effort to do this and you’re making great strides in healing the divisions in your family.”

CR can heap on all the praise she wants but the battle isn’t over yet. Hell, it hasn’t even _started._ Feferi still has to agree to this and she’s got a mountain of reasons to say ‘no’. Still, you nod to the small carapace and leave the area.

So much time has passed that the sun is starting to set. You wish you could enjoy the orange-red haze of the sky or the sound of birds…but bugs are starting to come out and they’re fucking _everywhere._ There’s even a large mist of gnats hanging in front of every available light source and fireflies the size of your finger threatening to bump into you. It's damn near intolerable. Sometimes you really hate living in the East. If it wasn’t for the warmth and lack of snowstorms, you might consider moving north where the insects don’t get to a monstrous size.

As you walk toward your cabin, you see Torken. The brownblood kit is standing amongst the trees, staring out toward the woods. You turn your head, but don’t see anything. He’s just looking toward the woods with an unreadable expression on his face. You can’t tell if it’s longing or sorrow.

“Torken?” you ask. The kit doesn’t respond, so you move in a little closer. “Hey, what’s up?”

It’s a minute before the brownblood even looks at you. His eyes are dilated, with large black orbs pushing the gray to the edges. You’re not even sure if he’s seeing you, or just a vague shape that’s distracting him from whatever has seized his attention.

“Torken, are you…okay?” you ask, softer now as you would with your crying children and their nightmares.

“Nothing.” Torken says and he sprints back to his cabin, like a startled animal.

You look to the woods but see nothing that could grasp a child’s attention: no lumbering large animals, no colorful birds, or unusual plants. There’s nothing but the overgrown edge of the woods, the boulders that make the boundary of the camp, and the tree markers to steer wayward hikers. You turn your attention to the surrounding area, but adults are lingering in or nearby their cabins. The kids must be doing the same, avoiding heat and insects.

It’s not anything to really concern yourself about. It’s not like Torken is _your_ son.

You return to your cabin, where the boys have taken their usual positions. Sollux is asleep so Suxxor is playing games on his phone. Dmitry is sitting on his bed, restyling his doll’s hair. You lay next to your kismesis, too tired to deal with either kid at the moment. It’s unusual to share so much space in a caliginous relationship…but your quadrants have never been traditional. It’s also not a concern right now.

You just want to sleep until dinner time and then further into the next century if you could.


	2. a princess in exile

**== >Eridan: Be Feferi the next morning **

Kanaya wakes you up at eight because if it was up to your body, you’d sleep until late afternoon. Momeju is already up, swinging her legs as Meenah tries to tame her hair with a brush and comb. You’re not sure whose side of the family Momeju inherited it from but you put the blame on the Vantas genes because it’s more similar to that of a mutantblood’s texture and lack of restraint, untamable by barrettes or cheap rubber bands. The only person who can wrangle Momeju’s hair is Meenah since you have to spend plenty of time on your own hair.

“How are you feeling?” Kanaya asks. The jadeblood sits next to you, gazing at you with concern in her sea-green eyes.

You smile but don’t sit up. You’re slow in the morning, groggy from just coming back to reality. “Alright.” You touch her face, smiling. “Having you here helps though.”

Kanaya kisses your forehead. “You’re being so disgusting right now.”

“Gross!” Momeju says, sticking out her tongue.

“Hey, let your Mom have fun.” Meenah says but she’s not smiling either. “Alright, kiddo, you’re done.”

“Finally!” Momeju hops off the chair and runs outside. Meenah chases after her, but you’re just relieved that she’s fully dressed this time and Meenah doesn’t have to run around chasing her and grabbing her before returning back to the cabin.

Kanaya exhales when Meenah’s gone. You have no idea what’s really going on between you two but you’d rather not discuss it. It’s a lovely morning, after all. The morning sun is shining through the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft blue light. There’s no obnoxious yellow tint to it from the streetlights that have yet to dim or the cars racing up and down the street or the grind of construction.

“Where’s Porrim?” you ask because every moment without the jadeblood nearby makes you nervous that she’s doing _something_ that will get you banned from the camp.

Kanaya shrugs. “Gathering plants or something else…nature-y. You know how she is.”

“Vaguely. I’m not even really sure _why_ she came.”

Kanaya raises an eyebrow. “Because I need a buffer between Meenah and me that isn’t a child.”

You groan and put a pillow over your face. “It’s too early for this.”

Kanaya pulls the pillow away. “If it were up to you, we’d _never_ talk about it. I know you hate conflict but we can’t avoid it forever.”

“I don’t hate conflict.”

“You just said that muffled behind a pillow.”

“It’s a comfortable pillow!”

Another pillow collides with your head and you sit up. “Hey! You promised me no pillow related warfare!”

“It was a Cold War promise.” Kanaya says with a smirk, “And it’s not that bad. That pillow’s flatter than Troll Olive Oyl’s chest and the same goes for every pillow in here!”

You think about the ancient cartoon character and gasp. “Oh my gods…she _doesn’t_ have a chest. She’s basically a pole.”

“Easier to draw and animate, I suppose.” Kanaya ruffles through the luggage bag and hands you a white plastic bottle. It rattles with pills, being full of cheap over-the-counter psionic dampeners. Good enough for a headache but with a mountain of side effects. “Old cartoon aesthetics aside, you have an issue with conflict.”

 “I don’t have ‘issues’ with conflict. I just prefer to mediation to fighting. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Really now? ‘Mediate’?” Kanaya sits on the edge of the bed, squinting at you. “Is _that_ what you call ‘avoidance’ now?”

“It’s just that…” you sigh, “He can be so _unreasonable_ sometimes. He acts like I have absolute control over Momeju when she’s her own person. I can’t _force_ her to like Eridan. At least Karkat understands that about his annoying kid.”

Kanaya frowns. “Is it really such a good idea to bring up Vriska’s parenting? Especially _now?_ ”

You think about the statement for longer than ten seconds and sigh again.

“Point taken,” you grumble, “but I don’t really know what to do. I’m not some kind of tyrant that can force everyone to change how they feel. I can’t make Momeju or Meenah like him. I can’t just _solve_ this problem for him by snapping my fingers--”

“You’re not exactly doing anything about it either.” Kanaya adds. You grumble but she adds, “Have you ever considered that maybe there’s another reason you don’t want to interfere as much with Momeju and Meenah?”

You stare at your matesprit, not sure what she’s getting at.

“Are you sure you’re…comfortable…with Momeju? She’s a violetblood like her father and you don’t really have a good history with them. You wouldn’t be the first either.”

Your scrutinizing squint becomes a deep frown. “What are you talking about? I love my daughter. She’s a pain in the ass but I still _love_ her. I love them _both_.” More than your heart can bear sometimes.

“I don't doubt your love, but…something else. I think on some level, you avoid them.”

You open your mouth but…you have no answers. You sit there in silence, hoping something will come to mind—some damning bit of evidence in your defense—but nothing forms. Your words have collapsed like an old freeway.

“Yeah, okay.” You get up from the bed and brush hair out of your face. “We better go to breakfast before everyone starts wondering where we’re at.”

“I doubt they’ve noticed.” Kanaya says but you’re already making your way to the shower.

The shower is small and only gives off tepid water. Your seadweller body hates cold water and would rather tolerate something hot and near boiling but it's fine for a brief dip. You brush your hair into place, thankful that you’re not so useless that you can’t do simple things when it comes to taking care of yourself. Yeah, you can’t work long hours or earn much money as a result, but you can at least feed and clean yourself when you have the energy to do so. 

You’re not useless and you’re not a burden either. You’re doing fine.

You brush your hair and consider Kanaya’s words. You definitely love your son and daughter. You do wish you could spend more time with them, but you’re doing your best with what you have. Momeju is a handful but all children are, especially one as volatile as she can be. You don’t really remember being as demanding but that was a long time ago. Your memories of those days in Leder have gone fuzzy, faded and yellowed like ancient newspapers. You have no idea what to do with Momeju.

You never really expected to have a child. Or planned for it, emotionally, financially, or spiritually.  You weren’t like the others in your class, who didn’t care about whether they had kids or not or just planned for it simply because birth control was so temperamental. You were never really a part of that ‘group’.

You were always the outsider. Eridan was unpopular but at least he was born Canzian and spoke English. You came to New Jack and were surprised you could sit on a bus with humans and live in the same mixed neighborhoods. You had to relearn signs and money, street names and holidays. Then your brother disappeared sometimes after and you had nothing. Meenah was always working, cast adrift in those old, sad days.

Two magenta fish alone in an unknown sea, being pushed where the current brings you.

When you think of this, everything around you is dulled. At the breakfast table, the kids are loud and being the usual level of obnoxious. You’ve gotten used to it after a year and now it’s just static. You’re massively disinterested in the meal and when breakfast is over, you can hardly remember if you ate or not. The others speak briefly outside, standing n the porch of the main building and watching the children play.

“Gods, I couldn’t live out here if they were like this _every single day_.” Meenah sighs.

“Is Torken okay? He seems…out of it.” Eridan says.

Gamzee rolls his eyes. “He’s just in one of his crappy moods. He’ll be fine later.”

They continue talking about something…but you’re not sure what. You’re in and out of so many events that occur in the kid’s life that you might as well not even be present. You sit on a bench, watching all of them talk—existing only in the background and adrift in the current.

“Feferi?” CR asks.

At hearing your name, you blink. You were looking at the carapace but nothing has been absorbed. You’ve just been sitting and watching like a meditative monk. “Huh?”

CR gives an understanding smile. “I was saying that I want Eridan and you to talk while the others partake in some adult activities.”

“Adult activities?” Porrim asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“Please don’t leave us alone with her.” Meenah says.

“Have fun!” CR says cheerily but makes sure to quickly walk away.

Eridan follows her without a protest and so do you, although it feels like you’re partially floating as you move. You have no idea where CR is planning to take you. For a moment you think that maybe you’re going to end up in some drafty remote cabin that no one uses, keeping you isolated from everyone else while you talk about everything that’s going on. You’re a little surprised when you walk not too far into the woods. CR brings you to a picnic site by a small river. It’s not deep enough to drown in and the current isn’t too strong. Likely it leads into a swamp. The ground around it is soggy and in the morning it’s…peaceful.

“This is one of my favorite spots on the grounds.” CR says, “You could follow all these little rivers to the ocean if you’re diligent enough.”

The sound of the running water is calming. Most of the water in your neighborhood is near stagnant, sitting in an algae-covered swamp or marsh with only mosquitoes for company. Here, you’re close to the ocean—where you _belong_. If it were your choice, you would just be in the ocean and nowhere else…but then night would eventually come and you would exist only in the water and darkness.

Then you would have to think of… _her_ _._ Her foggy dreams of swimming in the depths in the violently brackish Alternian sea. Reaching for the tendrils of some deep horror hidden n the core of its ocean and singing its praises in wordless, almost whale song. Living in a place with no air, breathing in only the darkness.

You sit at the river’s edge and see your reflection. You don’t even know what _she_ looks like but you always feel her like a shadow in the corner of your eye.

Eridan maintains his distance. He sits in the shade of a black willow, looking to the water but not going near it. Very much the move of an Ampora, all things considered. 

“It’s nice.” Eridan comments.

You don’t look at him. He won’t look at you. The water flows over your feet and you feel your heart beat slows to match its rhythm.  

“ _So_ …” CR says, “…you’re both interested in the medical profession? That’s interesting. Did you have this idea during high school?”

“Hell no.” Eridan snorts, “I…didn’t have any ideas. Maybe Fef--”

“No. Not really.” You had plenty of ideas about what you were going to do after high school. You weren’t certain on becoming a dolor but you always had an interest in religious charities. Maybe you would study abroad, return to Leder to help those displaced and needing medical attention. Of course, that’s impossible now but…you still like to think about it. At least you donate to the funds concerning the attempts to smooth over Leder’s civil wars and food shortages. “I just…did it because it seemed worthwhile.”

“Same.” Eridan says, “Kar and Sol were the ones that mentioned it ‘cause I took care of Grandpa and the trailer good. Well, as ‘good’ as I could.”

You look at the violetblood. “What do you mean?”

Eridan shrugs. “Y’know how sick Grandpa was. I was paying the bills and getting food for the longest time, so I just kept doing that. You said how sick he was yourself.”

You remember Eridan’s grandfather never quite getting over the flu but you didn’t know how extreme it was.

“I didn’t really know a lot of the…details.” you admit.

Eridan shrugs. “Not like it matters. A lot of other stuff was going on at the time. Even in his wake, we were talking about the kids.” He smiles.   “You told me you were having twins and you wanted the hemotypes to be a surprise. Gods, that feels like _ages_ ago, Fef!”

“I remember feeling so… _happy_.” You say, “There were so many things going wrong and I just wanted to feel happy about _something_.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. You don’t like to think about it, but your eyes hurt and you wipe at them.

“Fef, you alright?” Eridan asks.

“I’m okay.” you lie, “I don’t like to focus on the past. It’s just…too _sad_ sometimes. I just want to keep moving forward but it feels like there’s a chain holding me back, whether it’s just nightmares or thinking about… _her._ I just don’t want to think sometimes but it drags me back.” 

“Excuse me,” CR says, “what do you mean by ‘her’?”

“Oh. _That_.” Eridan rubs the back of her head, “It’s complicated but the medium-version of the story is that Feferi has genetic memories of her…grandmother?” He looks to you for clarification.

“I think she’s older than that. Ancient, really.” You’re not sure yourself. Given how long a fuchsiablood _could_ live on Alternia, _she_ could be the first queen. The first true tyrian troll ever hatched or the first to amass such power. “Her memories are…unpleasant. No, _she’s_ unpleasant. Psionic dampeners keep it at bay, but…I get nightmares.”

Eridan frowns. “You’re _still_ getting nightmares?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” But you won’t tell him about waking in the middle of the night, not having a true recollection of what you’ve seen but hungering for blood and screams. The esoteric praises of the many-limbed Carbuncle Mother on your tongue, singing her to sleep as her hunger succumbs. “Nothing worth repeating.” you correct.

CR is squinting but you don’t know if that’s skepticism. Carapace faces are more rigid than trolls and humans. “So…like a split personality?” she suggests.

“No. _She’s_ a parasite.” You say and when did your voice get so quiet? You can hardly hear yourself over the sound of birds, chirping loudly in the morning sun. You look at the leafy canopy, not thinking of the water or the shadow of _her._ “ _She’s_ not a true person. Just some…force…that latches onto strong emotions. Like pain. Like fear. Like…”

Like arousal.

The same arousal _she_ feels when the waters near the Carbuncle Mother, knowing her apocalyptic song has been calmed for another time.

The birds are too loud. You move deeper into the water, with the brook now covering your ankles. You look to where it flows and wonder how long it will take you to reach the ocean. How deep you could dive before you’re overcome by hunger and exhaustion.

“Interesting.” CR says, “Carapaces have their own genetic memories, although they’re universal. Most of our culture was oral and written language wasn’t used until New Earth colonization. And yet…all carapaces retain a memory of golden Prospit and amaranthine Derse, from names to their rulers and destruction. Where did these universal truths come from? And why are we unable to challenge it?”

Eridan smirks. “Seems like all us xeno get the most interesting stuff.”

CR says nothing. You see her white face out of the corner of your eye, giving away another.

 “One way of putting it.” CR says quietly. She looks at you with her inky black eyes, like marbles in the sun. “Feferi, what do you remember about the night you attacked Eridan?”

 “…was it a night?” you consider after a minute of contemplation. Your memories of that time are piecemeal, broken up by fever and uncertainty. It was as if you were back on that rocking boat, coasting from destroyed Leder and toward New Jack. To think about it makes you nauseated. “I only remember bits and pieces and nothing connects. I do remember what happened before. The fight…”

“It wasn’t really a fight. Just me being a jealous jackass.” Eridan mutters.

You remember the almost-tears in Eridan’s eyes after he confessed.“I thought it would blow over,” you say and offer him a pained smile, “but it didn’t.”

Eridan nods. “When you sent me that message, I thought it was the gods themselves offering me something on a silver platter. You contacted me after all, not Sollux.”

“I was sick. I wanted a friend.”

“What a shitty person you chose.” Eridan sighs, “I spent all my time looking good for you. I didn’t give a shit that you were sick. I just wanted to… _prove_ myself. Well, what proving I got.” He strokes his throat, not even looking at the scars. “All because I tried to kiss you.”

And that’s the word that unlocks everything. The floodgates in you open and you can remember a half-second of it. You can remember the screaming and how Eridan wants you to stop. You want _her_ to stop but she has the reins, steering you on like a horse with whip and bit. She can’t be denied.

“Fef?”

Pale pink tears run down your face. You’ve fallen in the water, trying to control yourself. You don’t want to think about that night. You don’t want to think about that blood. You’ve seen too much blood in your time and your memories are full of so many hurt and dead that you don’t want to think about it. You just want it all to stop and _go away._

“Fef? Fef, Jegus, it’s alright!” Eridan says.

You see him moving toward you, out the corner of your eye. You back away, still in the water.

 _“Stay away!”_ you sob.

Eridan stops where he is. He is standing at the river’s edge, looking at you. His eyes are wide with hurt and concern.

“Fef…” he whispers, “…are you scared of me?”

“ _Yes_!” you sniffle, “Yes, because every time I see you, I think of her…what she did…what she made me do to you!” You rub your eyes. “Why did you do that? You know I didn’t feel that way and you still _kissed_ me! You would have…if she hadn’t attacked, what would have happened, Eridan? I…I needed a friend and you…you just…”

You start sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re shuddering and frightened and feel everything slip out of your control. Eridan says nothing. He remains at the river’s edge, looking at you.

“I don’t know…” he whispers.

“I-I’m sorry…” you whisper, “I should be stronger than that. I should be…better than this. I shouldn’t _blame_ you for this.  You didn’t ask for that. I forgave you and I still can’t act like it. This…is wrong. It’s all wrong.”

Eridan doesn’t move. Instead, he sits down on the grass where he is. He looks at you. You’re eye level now, looking at him. His eyes look tired and with all the scars, you know one of them is definitely weaker than the other due to injury.

“Fef,” Eridan says, “you don’t _have_ to forgive me.”

“But I should…” You can barely see him through the tears running down your face, “You didn’t ask for this. You shouldn’t be blamed. You’re just a kid.”

“Jegus, Fef. We’re _both_ kids.” Eridan says, “Neither of us asked for what happened and neither of us is to blame for it. Fef…I…” The violetblood blinks and his eyes widen as if he’s seeing the sun for the first time in centuries. “I think I get it now. Fef, you don’t _have_ to pretend to be made of iron like the rest of us. You’re… _normal_.”

“What are you talking about?” you whisper, “I’m the _opposite_ of normal. I have some awful troll stuck in my fucking head, Eridan!”

“No, it’s not that.” Eridan continues, “You didn’t have to put up with half of the bullshit the rest of us did when we were kids. Meenah has her ways but she always supported you. She didn’t abuse you or treat you like a servant. Fef, you had a relatively normal childhood. The rest of us didn’t. Because of that, you don’t _think_ like the rest of us.”

You blink. You never thought of it that way. Aside from being involved in the church, you always considered yourself to be one of the others. You didn’t like the idea of being the outsider amongst your peers, as being someone who couldn’t be ‘one of them’, but the more you think about it—the more it makes sense.

“I…” you begin and then trail off. For once, you don’t have an immediate response to Eridan’s words.

You’re still absorbing the revelation, unsure of how to take this. You think of all the times you previously interacted with Eridan when it came to the kids, recalling your forced cheer and how insistent you were on different things in Momeju’s life. How you wanted her to be raised specifically in the church, how you wanted her to dress and act and which schools she was going to. You wanted her childhood to be absolutely normal, just so you could smother your insecurities.

“I’m sorry.” is the first cohesive thought you have. Before Eridan can start, you continue, “I’m sorry for forgiving you. When I said I forgave you, I don’t think I _really_ understood what that meant. I always thought that forgiveness is just something you _do_ and then the true feelings would follow. Now…I realize that was wrong. I’m really not comfortable with you or with _any_ of this. It’s…not okay.”

Your voice warbles at the last of it. Eridan looks at you, equally tearful.

“It’s _not_ okay that I’m sick all the time. It’s _not_ okay that I have to deal with this. I...don’t think I’m ready and I don’t think I’ll _ever_ be ready to be a mother.” You take a shuddering breath, “But I still want to try. I don’t resent Momeju but I _don’t know_ what to do.”

“Yeah but…” Eridan sighs, “It's okay to not know what to do. I don’t _really_ know what I’m doing with the kids. I just act like it. Sometimes that’s all you _can_ do.”

You don’t look at him. You slowly stand, looking at the violetblood. He still looks unsure, as if he’s still afraid of you lashing out at him again. You rub the back of your head, not sure on what could be said now. Instead, you give him a smile.

“Alright.” you say, “I’ll try but…can you at least help me.”

Eridan nods. “Of course.”

“If I may interject,” CR says. You look at the carapace, having honestly forgotten she was still there, “you two are handling this conversation marvelously. Look at this, you’re talking like two reasonable adults and all it took was a few hours.”

“Hours?” you ask.

Eridan fishes his phone out of his pocket and frowns. “It's lunch already?”

“That’s the thing about relationships: it takes a while to get everything set.” CR chuckles, “I think we should take a break here and keep this positive energy flowing. Then afterward we can have a talk about visitation schedules and conceiving a way for you to monitor Momeju and Dmitry’s behaviors and work together.”

Eridan looks at you. “How does that sound?”

You smile.

“A step in the right direction.”

 

The meeting with Eridan has been exhausting enough that you’re relieved to see the kids. They’re all gathered in the main building, cleared away paint and glitter off the tables in preparation for lunch. Momeju eagerly shows you what she’s spent most of the morning working on a photo frame decorated with glitter, shiny stones, and feathers. Dmitry is confronting Eridan with the same, looking expectantly at his father.

“Where did you get all of this?” you ask Momeju.

“They took us on a walk!” Momeju excitedly announces and continues to go on about all the things she saw in the woods, from the trees to the plants. You half-listen to her, wondering what picture you can even put in the messy popsicle stick frame.

Your mother walks over, looking at you with concern in her fuchsia eyes. “You alright, Fef? I can take her off your hands--”

You shake your head. “No, it's fine. Why don’t you relax, Mom?” You’re enjoying time with your daughter for as long as your energy lasts. “You should be having fun too.”

Your mother frowns, looking unsure about this. “Alright…” but she doesn’t venture far from you.

You think that’s how it’s always been, with you having fun blissfully unaware and your mother always moving at the edges of your vision, making sure you’re alright and always there quickly when you need her. It is nice to have her around but, honestly, you don’t need her _that_ much.

After lunch, the heat of noon is unbearable so you head into your cabins. Torken, Suxxor, and Simham are still full of energy and insist on running around. Dmitry remains close to Eridan as he always does, avoiding anything that might involve activity with a five-foot stick.

Momeju looks ready to run off as well but you grab her. “Oh no,” you say, “ _You’re_ changing your clothes before you go running around more. You’ve sweated through these.”

“Noooo!” Momeju whines, “I wanna go _noooow_!” 

“Stop it or you won’t go at all.” You say.

Momeju whines the entire time but you ignore it as much as possible. You have to get your Mom’s help for when Momeju tries to run off. You’ve never really had to ‘wrangle’ the girl and she almost kicks you in the face when she refuses to put on her shoes and you have to wrestle them onto her. Eventually, though, Momeju runs out of energy and falls asleep. You’re fine with that because she’s unmanageable when overtired.  

“Was I ever like this?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” Meenah admits, “but you were less rambunctious. I think she gets it from her father.”

You smile. “I can’t see Eridan being so active.”

Meenah laughs. “Neither can I.”

You sit in silence. Porrim and Kanaya have ventured into the woods under the guise of collecting saplings and seeds only found in the New Jack wilderness. You think they’re just going to use the isolation to complain about their quads without the risk of any children overhearing.

“So, I’m guessing things with Eridan went okay.” Meenah mumbles, “You seem like you have more…energy.”

“At least right now I do. Who knows what will happen later?” You say with a nervous laugh.  “Eridan and I mostly talked about the kids. We want to do something…different…with them. It might make things easier if we work together a bit more.”

Meenah nods but isn’t looking at you but out the window. She stands by, watching the kids at play. You can hear Gamzee shouting at Simham about leaving the wildlife alone. Odds are that your oliveblood nephew has seized another mouse and is refusing to give it up.

“So,” she says, “guess you won’t need Mom hanging around as much then?” She wears a smile but it’s strained as she says it.

“You know I’ll always need you in _some_ way.” You say. Meenah doesn’t answer and you frown. “I thought you’d be happy, not having to play ‘grandma’ as much. You could do what you’ve always wanted.”

“Like what?” Meenah shrugs. “My needs aren’t really a huge priority. I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want with my life. Spending time with the kids is limited since they grow up so quickly. I wouldn’t want to miss anything.” She smiles, “The first day of little league. Learning to ride a bike. Picture day. Science fairs…there are those little moments you can’t get from just seeing distant pictures alone.”

Moments your mother never got with Gamzee since he was sent away.  

“But there must be _something_ you want to do.” You add.

Meenah doesn’t answer. She keeps looking out the window. You’ve never gone into this line of discussion with your mother: the future, or specifically, _her_ future. She was always more concerned with what you wanted to do and what it would lead to, rather than what she wanted. You open your mouth to say something but there’s a frantic knock on the door.

When you open it, Tavros is there.

“Is Torken here with you?” he asks. When you shake your head, Tavros curses and walks away.

You follow him out of your cabin. “What’s going on?”

Tavros looks at you, his face marred by anxiety. “I can’t find Torken. I thought he was in the cabin, but he’s not.”

“I’m sure he’s okay. He’s a smart kid.” You say. Tavros still looks nervous and you add, “I can help you look. Two eyes are better than one.”

Tavros nods and you return to your cabin to recruit Meenah as well. Within minutes, you’re scouring the campsite in search of your nephew. You move toward Eridan’s cabin to see if he’s seen the brownblood kit, but Eridan is already outside.

“Suxxor!” Eridan calls, “Suxxor, where are you? _Suxxor! Us hoc us nenc!_ ” The violetblood growls, _“Dusraucsauneu phullu ui uji faucseres sem zozuns...”_

“Oh no.” you say, “Don’t tell me Suxxor is missing too?”

“Afraid so.” Eridan rubs his temples, fighting against another child-related headache, “You close your eyes for just a few minutes and he takes off for gods know where. I thought he was with Dmitry but apparently not.” He pauses, “Wait, did you say ‘too’?”

You nod.

Eridan rolls his eyes skyward. “Gods preserve us we made it this far.”

Eridan joins the hunt after that, with you looking over the other parts of the campsite. Eridan calls after his son in growling Old Alternian. CR and the rest of the carapaces help as well, moving deeper into the woods as they have the expertise. As the sun moves across the sky and begins to turn from blue to red-orange, his growls become worried pleas. Finally, the lamps outside the main building begin to flicker on and your families convene by the unlit bonfire.

“Where could they have gone?” Eridan says, “Suxxor doesn’t usually stay out this long. He hates the woods even more than _I_ do.”

“But Torken doesn’t.” Tavros says, giving his matesprit a worried look.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Torken’s…been acting a little weird lately. I don’t really know what it is.” Tavros admits, “Sometimes he just…bolts off into the swamp. Like he’s looking for something that _we_ can’t see.”

“Is that…normal?” Sollux asks.

“No clue.” Gamzee says.

“Let’s not panic.” CR adds, nervously wringing her hands, “We’ll scout out the area and see which way the boys went. The grounds are only so big. They couldn’t have gotten far because reaching, well, the _edges_.”

Porrim’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean ‘the edges’?”

“Of the property, I mean. This area doesn’t go on forever.” CR says, “The lake’s large and goes out to sea and then there are the natural barricades: boulders, ravines, roads, mud holes, highways, and old fencing--”

“Did you say _ravines_?” Sollux asks, “How deep are we talking here?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen them.” CR admits, flustered, “In order to be a ravine…maybe a ten, sixteen-foot drop?” When she sees Tavros’s face, she adds, “Though you’re sure to get stuck in the swamp before you find a ravine. You’re more likely to find a gully--”

“And how deep is _that_?” Sollux asks.

While CR flusters, you look at the remaining children, who are sitting on a log. Momeju is half-paying attention, only invested in the conversation because Torken is missing but not caring about Suxxor. She occasionally looks up from her task of making a daisy chain. Dmitry is nervously fiddling with his hands and Simham has his eyes toward the ground. They’re taking pains to look small and unnoticed.

“Simham. Dmitry.” You say, “Where did they go?”

Dmitry looks up, startled. He has to reconfirm that you’re talking to him and then looks away, unsure how to respond. In all your time together, you’ve never truly exchanged words aside from the occasional greeting and parting. The nature of your biology doesn’t allow you to spend much time with him. Even being in a group like this is…strenuous on some part of you.

Simham is the first to speak up. “I-I don’t know!”

“Then look me in the eye and say that.” you challenge.

Simham looks you in the eye but then quickly looks away. He puffs out his cheeks. “I was just wondering how long we have to stay here.”

Gamzee takes out his cellphone. “Okay, so we can just explain this to Mom--”

You’ve never seen an oliveblood’s tail fluff out so quickly.

“ _Noooo_!” Simham yowls like a frightened kitten. “I really don’t _know!_ Torken said during the walk that his head hurt and, uh, there was something he was looking for. The beast in the woods. He didn’t really talk to me. He’s been...grumpy.”

“That’s an understatement.” Tavros sighs.

“Uh,” Dmitry anxiously plays with his hair, looking at the ground, “Suxxor…wanted me to distract Dad. Cause he wanted to know where Torken was going.”

“ _Dmitry_!” Eridan groans, “You’re supposed to be the responsible one! Why did you even agree to that?”

“Suxxor gave me a feather he found and I wanted your picture frame to be prettier than Momeju’s!” Dmitry whines.

“Mine’s still prettier.” Momeju grunts.

Eridan glares at Momeju but sighs. He pats Dmitry on the head. “That’s…very sweet but this is a really bad situation, Dmitry. You can’t let your brother wander off! It’s not safe!”

Dmitry looks sheepish. “But Torken knows his way around…”

“No, he _doesn’t_!” you say, “You’re all _the same age_! Why do you think he has more authority than you?”

The children exchange a glance and then shrug.

“He just _does._ ” Momeju explains, followed by nods.

You groan. This looks like an issue for another day. Right now, you have two missing children to find.

 “We need to split up.” Meenah declares.

For once you’re in agreement. “Let’s all go. We’d cover more ground as a group.”

“Yeah, but what them?” Kanaya points to the remaining kids. “We can’t let this bunch get lost either, and uh…some of us may not be fit for hiking through a trail in the dark.”

You glare at your matesprit. “Are you talking about me?”

“Fef, I love you but you can’t go through those woods. You’re already exhausted and the stress of the situation isn’t helping.”

“I am not!” you insist.

“You started limping a half hour ago and now you’re sitting.” Gamzee says, “I bet you haven’t even _noticed_ you’re sitting.”

You look down and realize that (at some point) you started sitting on the same log as the children. You fold your arms and glare at your brother. “Just because you make a few points doesn’t mean you’re _immediately_ correct.”

“I’ll stay too.” Eridan says, “Fef can’t watch the kids by herself.”

“What? I should come!” Simham says.

“Simham--” Gamzee growls.

“But I can _help_!” Simham argues, “I can track Torken and see things you can’t!” The little oliveblood hops up and down anxiously. Immediately you’re reminded of hyperactive little Felida. “I can see super well at night and I got a really good sense of smell! Do any of you?”

The other adults exchange a look and Gamzee sighs.

“Shit, he’s got a point.” Gamzee says, “Torken has good night vision too.”

“Suxxor doesn’t though.” Eridan says and his eyes are wide and worried, “He must be blind _and_ scared.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, ED.” Sollux says, “He’s tougher than he looks.”

“I wanna go look for Torken too!” Momeju says.

“Absolutely not.” You say, “This isn’t a fun trip into the woods, Momeju. Someone’s missing.”

Momeju pouts and looks at Meenah, giving her the saddest eyes possible.

Thankfully, Meenah looks away. “Let’s just get this on with.” The fuchsiablood says.

The families split up into three groups: Tavros and Gamzee with Simham, Kanaya, and Sollux, and Meenah and Porrim. You’re not sure how these groups are going to work out in the long run but as long as no disappears (or dies) it’s going to be considered a win. One counselor goes with each of them, leaving you alone in the camp with Eridan and the kids.

You’re too drained to go to your cabin by yourself. You can’t deal with Momeju when she’s starting one of her ‘moods’. Thankfully Eridan gets the signal and suggests that you all stay at his cabin.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You chuckle.

Momeju and Dmitry don’t really interact with one another. They seem to have their own sections of the room to play in, preferring to play in their own way rather than with each other. When you get inside the cabin, you lay down on Eridan’s bed.

“Just because I’m lying down doesn’t mean I’m exhausted.” You add.

“Uh huh.” Eridan chuckles and sits next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly fine!” you huff, “I don’t know why everyone is so worried about me. It’s not like I’m going to collapse if you leave me alone for too long.” You then add, “Just because it happened one or three times doesn’t mean it can happen again.”

“Have you seen a doctor about the random collapsing and blacking out, though?” Eridan asks, “Even if you’re not having seizures, that still sounds bad. Your energy really hasn’t returned to what it used to be.”

“It’s fine.” You sigh, “I’ve just…made due with it. Maybe it’s just how things have to be.”

Eridan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not really made for this planet. Maybe there’s something I’m missing that New Earth can’t give me. Maybe the sun’s just not hot enough or I’m not living in water constantly, so my energy’s out of whack right now. Maybe it’ll correct itself in a few hundred years, maybe not.” You shrug. “Either way, I’ve just learned to live with it.”

Eridan shakes his head. “I can’t really consider _that_ living.”

“I know but it's how things have to be right now. Either way, I’ll figure out how to deal with it.” You then noticed Dmitry looking at you. He’s fiddling with a picture frame, shifting from foot to foot as he looks at you. You give a smile. “Uh, hey there, Dmitry. Have something for me?”

Dmitry nods, nervously looking at you.

“You want to come over and show it to Mom?” Eridan suggests.

Dmitry’s eyes widen and he comes over immediately, looking at you. “I can?”

“Sure, this time.” Eridan says, but he still has a nervous look on his face, as if he’s afraid you’re going to tear your son in half.

Honestly, you’re afraid you might do that too.

“Sure,” you say cautiously, “just don’t make any sudden movements. “

 “Um, okay…” Dmitry mumbles. He moves in close, looking at you with his large eyes. Finally, he holds up the picture frame. It's assembled from popsicle sticks and smeared with fuchsia paint and has feathers and stones glued to it. To call it a ‘hot mess’ wouldn’t be descriptive enough. “I…made this.”

You smile. “I love it. And where did you get the fuchsia paint from?”

“They had a lot of it. Suxxor found the feathers when we were on our walk. I got the stones.” Dmitry adds.

“I like the paint on it.” You say, “It’s so close to our blood color.”

“Yeah!” Dmitry smiles. “They had pink paint so I had to mix more stuff into it to get the one I wanted. The counselors was all like ‘but it’s already fuchsia!’ and I was like ‘Nah, it’s not the right _shade_ really.”

You’re glad Dmitry’s creative enough to see the differences in the fuchsia hues. Most people just see fuchsia as another shade of pink when it reality it’s a vivid purplish color. ‘Magenta’ isn’t necessarily correct either. It makes little difference with the hemocaste no longer in effect but it matters to you on a personal level that _someone_ knows the differences. You like looking at the colors Dmitry has mixed it's…oddly calming to see an appropriate shade of fuchsia.

Eridan is squinting at the picture frame now, studying the colors. He doesn’t say anything but you know there’s _something_ on his mind that he’s contemplating. You don’t bring it up because you doubt he wants to discuss it with the kids around. Instead, he tries to get Dmitry and Momeju to play a game together. Ever the prepared parent, Eridan has a travel version of a variety of games to entertain the boys during the long car trip: Brain Quest, Hangman, and Tic Tac Toe. You stick with Brain Quest because it’s the least likely to start a fighting between Momeju and Dmitry.

Well, at least for the first half hour. Then you have to pull them apart and try something new. There’s no TV at the camp so keeping the kids entertained is the hardest part. Eventually, they pass out, energy burnt out by dealing with each other. Eridan and you put them on the bed and turn the lights down low so they can rest.

“If I knew this place didn’t have a TV, I would have reconsidered.” Eridan sighs.

“I think it’s good for them to get away from TV, even if it’s for a little bit.” you say, “We didn’t have a TV in Leder and we still kept ourselves entertained.”

“Yeah, but your parents didn’t have jobs that kept them away from the house all the time either. After a long shift, I’m exhausted. I know it’s bad to let TV babysit them, but I’m too tired to keep them entertained _all_ the time. Plus, I have to make food or clean usually, so at least I know if they’re watching TV, they’ll stay in the same place and not get in too much trouble.”

You recall all the times you were tired and Meenah plopped Momeju in front of the TV when she especially fussy. Sometimes you have no choice but to let her bad mood be distracted by something entertaining so all the adults can recharge their batteries.

“I can understand that,” you admit, “if it wasn’t for Troll Doc McStuffins, I think we’d _all_ be burnt out.”  

Eridan doesn’t say anything; he’s still looking at the fuchsia picture frame.

“Something on your mind?” you ask.

Eridan blinks and looks at you. He then looks away, as if still thinking about what to say.

“Listen…” he murmurs, “I know you have no reason at all to trust me but…I think I have an idea about how to banish the tyrian.”

You shudder, hating to think about _her._

“Banish?” You ask, “You make it sound like she’s a ghost.”

“Well…to be honest, she _is._ ” Eridan says, “Like, she’s not a ghost in the supernatural sense but she is a remnant of a past that you can’t access. Grandpa used to say that descendants would always continue the works of their ancestors, whether they were actively aware of it or not. After Karkat molted, he became more…I don’t know, a pacifist? Like, he was more willing to work on things with people and reach peaceful agreements, like the Sufferer allegedly did. I mean, Karkat has always been a peacekeeper in some aspect but I think that molting allowed him to attain a better focus on it.”

You frown. This sounds like half-baked psychology and pagan nonsense coming out of his mouth.

Eridan sees the look on your face and adds, “Seriously, think about it. _She’s_ always consumed with the thoughts of Old Alternia and what’s going on there. Time doesn’t pass for a ‘ghost’. We already know from history that the Condesce killed her predecessor but that hasn’t happened. In her head, _she’s_ still alive. Maybe she needs to be made aware of her death. Maybe she’s unable to…move on.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know…acknowledging her might give her more power.” It’s the very reason why you won’t deign the ghost with a name.

“More power than she already has over you?”

You look at him, unsure of what to say. There’s nothing you really _can_ say to challenge that.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask.


	3. the wet darkness

**== >Eridan: Be Meenah wading in the woods **

“I’m going to fucking kill my grandson.” you growl.

“Not before his father does, I think.” Porrim chuckle.

You slap another mosquito before giving the jadeblood an answer. You’ve never been as keen on nature as your father or your friends. You’d taken concrete and well-lit streets over their nature, and honestly, you’re kicking yourself for not finding a family retreat that wasn’t close to a road instead of in the leafy misery that is South New Jack. You can’t hear or see the road from where you are or the highway and it’s far too noisy with the crickets and animals. If any of this bothers Porrim, the jadeblood isn’t showing it. The fashionista is dressed for the experience of camping, wearing overalls and long shirt and a flashlight shimmering into the darkness.

 “I can’t hear or see anything.” You say. The sweat on your flashlight is making the plastic feel slippery. If you drop it, you’re calling it quits. “We should turn around or call the others. I have no idea where these munchkins went.”

“There.” Porrim holds up a piece of cloth and broken branches. You recognize the scrap of clothes from Suxxor’s shorts. “Looks like Suxxor got snagged on something when they went this way.”

You look around the woods. Aside from your flashlights and fireflies, there’s very little to make out such a small object. “How’d you pick that out?”

Porrim grins. “Jadeblood powers.”

“Get real.”

“Vriska had a habit of taking off and I was always the one that went looking for her.” Porrim moves ahead, squelching through the mud. “You learn to keep an eye out for certain things: broken branches, footpaths, and so on.”

You follow behind her. “Any more freaky abilities you got?”

Porrim stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder at you.

“Am I _that_ terrifying to you?” she asks, “Or is just jadebloods in general?”

You’re surprised enough by the question that you don’t even have a sarcastic quip in store. Porrim is still looking at you. She’s not smiling but her eyes are wide, expecting _some_ sort of response.

“I’m fine with jadebloods.” You murmur.

Her sea-green eyes narrow. “Considering what happened between my mother and you, I don’t think so.”

You hate that you flinch. You’ve put the Dolorosa out of your mind for years but just the thought of it puts your ‘fight or flight’ instincts in gear. Porrim is still looking at you, still expecting another answer. It’s that godsdamned unnerving _stare,_ like a monster deciding if you’re friend or prey.

“I just…don’t _get_ it.” You can’t look at her as the words tumble out your mouth. “I just got the feeling that, even before _that,_ she never liked me. She loved Kankri and everyone else but she always…held me at a distance. Like I had three heads and was radioactive. Why’d she hate me so much? Was I that much of a fuck up?” 

Porrim turns to you fully. She looks strange, standing in the moonlight. There’s a slight sheen to her skin, nothing that ultraviolet would provide, but there’s enough of a glow to make her seem slightly supernatural. Her eyes are soft, full of a strange emotion. You think of the same calm serenity before Kurloz smashes someone’s face in. 

“I think you misunderstand in thinking everything is about you.” Porrim says, “Our mothers hated each other with very good reasons on both sides. You just never saw it because your mother wasn’t present, but I understood. She loved her son and he was taken away from her by the Condesce. Then years passed and he returns to her a different person, the kind of person she doesn’t recognize and he loves his captor. The same captor that sold her into slavery, had her passed around like a slab of meat, treated like an animal--”

“Okay!” you say, “Okay, I get it. My Mom was a huge bitch but she--”

“Changed?” Porrim moves close, challenging you with an invasion of your boundaries. “What is it, Meenah? You don’t want to _hear_ about what an awful person your mother was? You don’t want to hear that someone you _love_ was an _awful_ person?”

Porrim is so close and her eyes are so blown out and dilated with hate or maybe its bloodlust; the purple in her surfacing for the first time you’ve seen.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not children. We don’t get to ignore the things our parents, good and bad.” Porrim says, “How do you think I feel when my father is brought up? You think I don’t realize he’s a shitty person? I do. I know he deserves to rot in jail. And yet I still feel affection for that damned fool, just like you can feel affection toward someone who is a fucking _war criminal_ who is just as evil as my father. The only difference is that she got away with it.”

“But she changed.” You argue, “You never met her. You never saw--”

“Did you ever ask her why she left?”

The words cut your sentence down; a half-trained soldier to the front lines.

“Meenah, people don’t change. They _adapt._ ” Porrim continues, “My father adapted by trying to rework himself for a new era. Your mother retreated. Otherwise, why isn’t she here? New Jack is so huge that you two could live in the same space and never see each other. But no. She left you and Kankri behind on purpose, because she’s _selfish_ , Meenah. They’re all so godsdamned _selfish._ Your mother. My mother. Your father. My father. At the end of the day, at the end of the world, they only care about themselves. And how could they not? When you live in a world where you might die at any day, any moment, no matter how long-lived you may be, why _not_ be a little selfish here and there? But then that selfishness piles up and soon you’ve fucked over everyone else and leave your child to the wilderness to raise themselves.”

You wrap your arms around you. You don’t step back, even though your heart hurts.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, “I…my mother…” You almost say _loves me_ but the words never come. It hurts too much to force it. “When did this become about me, huh? I was asking you the questions and you just fucking turn this on me like this. What’s _your_ fucking problem?”

You feel exhausted, just talking like this. You didn’t feel like this talking to Eridan. You only felt rage then. Now you just feel burnt out. You lean against a tree, hearing the wind through the leaves.

“You’re selfish too, is my problem,” Porrim says, barely above a whisper, “and I’m selfish too and I hate the things in you I see in myself. I hate you so much right now. I think…I may have _always_ hated you and didn’t know it. And I wish you would act like a godsdamned adult about everything in your life and just hate something that can hate you back.”

You stare at the jadeblood in the moonlight. You’re feeling too dizzy and tired to have a quick response. It comes a few moments later.

“Oh no.” you say, “Oh hell no! Por! There’s no way…”

Porrim stares, unblinking and eyes made vivid yellow by the night.

“The fuck is _wrong_ with you?” you ask, “You can’t hate me! For one thing…our kids are fucking dating! You wanna make this shit more complicated? We’re practically related.”

“We’re not.” Porrim answers, “We’re one of the few trolls that _don’t_ have incestuous complications.”

“On an _emotional_ level, we are!” You rub your face, “And I don’t…I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not _right_ for relationships?” You sigh. “I think the only reason I pushed myself into them originally was because I was just learned my way around things and I wasn’t sure how things felt and…I was scared of being alone. I just don’t think I… _want_ anyone. I just think I want…”

Company.

You want to be able to hang out with someone without the fear of being rejected or being tossed away. You want to be around someone without that fear of being left behind again. You just want someone to _stay_ with you and not feel like you’re a burden or danger to them and yourself.

“You’re lonely.” Porrim says, “I’m also lonely. Rufioh is a social butterfly but sometimes…I like to be alone and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

You want to question if she’s serious about this and if you’re serious. You can’t remember the last time you tried a stable quadrant or one where it was just a loose “anything goes” that breaks down after a while. You can’t even remember when you had something designated even as ‘caliginous’.

“I just live in moments.” Porrim admits, “In this moment, I still flush Rufioh. In a year’s time, who knows? Maybe I’ll flush someone else or maybe we’ll be pale or pitch by some weird incident. Tomorrow is…another time. But for this moment, I hate you.”

You don’t have an answer for that. You can’t think. It’s all becoming too much. You want to come up with an eloquent answer, but you’re still confused.

Your earfins flicker, picking up a faint vibration. A sharp keening noise moves through the woods—the wail of a dying animal inching toward the molten gates of death. A louder shouting follows it—Gamzee saying something and Sollux and another. Porrim and you break eye contact only to follow the noise, plunging through the woods with only flashlights and fireflies. You push through the razor-edged bushes and past trees, from the hard and rocky soil of the woods into where the ground is soggy and sloped.

The grove continues sloping where the ground meets the water. A wide stream empties out into a lake, trailing toward the horizon and to the sea. Lying at its edge is a seagoat lusus. Its entire flank is torn apart, bleeding purple into the water and onto the sand. Its horns are battered and broken, the fins torn. You’ve never seen one so huge before. Typically they stay close to the open sea or the deeper parts of the swamp. This one looks big enough to pick up Torken and paddle away into the ocean.  

Torken sits next to it with his knees in the bloodied water.

 

 

Suxxor holds Sollux’s leg, terrified. Simham stays close to Gamzee with his anxiously tail frayed out. You’re clustered with the other adults, unsure of what you’re seeing. You think you should say something but you don’t know what. To intrude on Torken’s space right seems…wrong, in a sense that words can’t convey. It’s silent in the woods, with only the insects breaking this moment of sacred silence.

Tavros is the first to move. He exhales and slowly makes his way down the slope. The older brownblood kneels next to his son. Torken doesn’t seem to notice him, focused entirely on the lusus.

Suxxor breaks the silence first. “H-he just bolted and I tried to get him to stop ‘cause Simham wasn’t there--” he babbles.

“I know. It’s okay, kid.” Sollux whispers. He pats his son on the head, “Next time get an adult.”

“I _wanted_ to!” Suxxor admits, “But he was moving so fast. I didn’t want to lose him…” Monochrome eyes look back toward the brownbloods and the dying animal. “Is it…sick?”

“Yes.” Eridan says, eyes not looking away from the sight.

Suxxor must have other questions but he’s silent. You don’t think the kids understand ‘death’ entirely. That’s a lesson typically put off until it has to be learned. Even in his young age, Suxxor must sense _something_ wrong and says nothing else. He’s silent again, unable to tear his eyes away from the animal.

The seagoat doesn’t last much longer. A few minutes later and it gives its last shuddering breath. It goes still, blood coagulated and bereft of life. Tavros leads Torken away from the corpse, back up the hillock. He holds his son’s hand and Torken’s face is blank, either unable to fully understand what happened or maybe having _too much_ understanding for such a young mind.

“What’s going on?” Kanaya asks.

“It’s over.” Tavros says.

You almost ask what he means but you shoot another look at the dead lusus, at Torken’s hollowed eyes, and Tavros’s exhaustion. The anger on Gamzee’s face is obvious. He would argue more but he’s tired. You’re covered in bug bites, mud, and gods know what else. If there’s an argument to be done, it can’t be tonight and certainly can’t be _right now._

“Let’s just go back,” Gamzee grumbles, “before it gets any later.”

You go back to camp as a clustered group, saying little and carrying your children. The counselors lead you back quickly, returning you to the main site where CR has been anxiously waiting. The camp is quiet, so you assume that Feferi and Eridan haven’t killed each other during this interlude. You nod and mumble your goodbyes as you return to your cabins, exhausted beyond belief.

Feferi and Eridan are fast asleep with the kids. Seeing it reminds you of when they were young and used to fall asleep in their blanket forts. How small and innocent they were before everything else in the world sloughed onto their shoulders, tarlike and ruining everything they had before.

It’s a little too much to see right now. After this night, you don’t want to deal with the ghosts in your past. Instead of sleeping like any decent person, you sit on your cabin’s back porch. You look at the stars, expecting answers or maybe some inside into why your head doesn’t feel like it’s on quite right.

Maybe you should get away from this place and travel, but then what? All you ever seem to do is run from problems. You’d be no different from your mother if you did that….but what else is there for you? Feferi won’t need you forever and taking care of her gave you _some_ purpose in life. What else is there? Becoming a moldering old grandmother, full of stories and not much else?

You’re still so young. You have all the time in the fucking world to do anything…and that may be the problem.

Too much time for you and not enough for anyone else.

A light flickers in the corner of your eye. You look over at the cabin next to you. Tavros is standing on his porch, playing with a lighter. You don’t think he sees you; he’s just flicking the lighter on-off in a consistent rhythm.

You wave over to him, catching the brownblood’s eye. “Hey.”

Tavros looks over at you but his attention immediately goes back to the lighter. “Hey.”

You can’t remember the last time you spoke directly with Tavros when others weren’t present. Still, it’s not like you’re doing anything important besides moping. You leave your porch, closing the distance between you.

“So…you’re smoking again?” you ask.

“No,” Tavros mumbles, “but I still like this lighter. Guess its…comforting.”

“Yeah, I miss smoking too...” You mumble.

“I know.” Tavros runs a hand through his mohawk, “Gamzee told me how you used to smoke like a stack.”

“He talks about me?”

“When he feels like it.”

You move a little closer to your son-in-law. Tavros doesn’t move but he stops momentarily playing with the lighter. “How’s…he doing? He was upset when Torken went missing.”

“Gamzee loves his sons. He doesn’t want them hurt like he was.” Tavros says, “so it’s when he can’t help them. He’s talking to Torken right now.…” He smiles slightly. “They’ll be fine. They love each other a lot...”

You can’t deny that there’s genuine love between father and son. “What happened with Torken?”

“It’s…” Tavros exhales. “The lusus was crying out in pain. Animals don’t have language like we do but you can get impressions like you can get impressions from a house where murders have taken place in. The animal…wanted Torken to end his pain, the same way my grandfather would. The difference is that Torken doesn’t know how to control his psionics so when the animal _pulled_ …he couldn’t shake it off.”  He rubs his eyes, sighing. “I should be happy. Torken could be a powerful psionic but right now, its trouble.”

“How could Torken’s psionics be powerful when yours aren’t?”

Tavros shrugs. “Genetics are weird. I have _some_ psionics but I never trained it. It’s not really useful and I’d have to push myself a lot harder than Torken currently has to.” 

Like any parent, he’s at the crossroads to nurture Torken or not.

“You should let him learn. Who knows? Maybe he can help others like Rufioh does.” You say.

Tavros shrugs. “Maybe. What about you?”

You put your hands in your pocket. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you’re unsure yourself.” You say.

“I…don’t know.” You shrug, “I think I just need to think about stuff. But whatever.” You head back to your cabin. “Tomorrow is another day.”

Tavros doesn’t answer. You go back inside the cabin, lay down in your bed. Kanaya is snuggled against Feferi, holding her close and Porrim is standing by the window. You don’t say anything and head to bed yourself.

 


	4. the long way home

This week was a nightmare. You have no idea why you thought it would be a good idea, but you feel more stressed than you do relaxed. At least Feferi seems to have more energy. She was up earlier than usual, getting Momeju ready for the long trip back to New Jack city. She even has you up, teaching her all the particulars on how to care for Momeju’s abnormally thick and long hair. After Momeju’s hair is partially tamed, Feferi sits and helps Kanaya pack away the bags. You make sure the kids are organized before heading to the central cabin.

CR and the other counselors are having a powwow on the front of the main building, probably passing the blame around for what happened. You can’t hear the conversation but its low and CR looks serious. She picks up her head when you move in.

“Oh, Ms. Peixes! How is everything?” CR asks, “You bunch went right to bed after last night’s…unpleasantness.”

“Not as unpleasant as you think.” You say. The other counselors look sheepish and head off, leaving just CR and you outside. “Honestly, I think that little detour was what we all needed. I think we all got our heads cleared out.”

CR frowns. “Yes, but it was such a dangerous way to do it. Although the children were safe in the end, there should be a far safer method for ‘clearing your heads’.”

You shrug. “You work with what you have.” You dig inside your pocket, taking out your checkbook. “Who do I make the donation for?”

CR holds up her hands. “Are you sure? After what happened last night--”

“You helped. You got us here, so you helped.” You’re already writing in the numbers, calculating the donation and how much you can get off with taxes.

CR frets but doesn’t completely discourage the donation. You’ve set aside the money your mother sends to you monthly, divvying it into different needs that the children could want.

“You know, Ms. Peixes,” CR says after pocketing the check, “I feel there’s a lot more work to be done on your part but this is the first step. Will you at least promise me that you won’t turn away help in the future?”

“I’ll consider it.” You say because there’s no way you can make promises. Not right now.

Right now, you head back to your family. Everyone is quickly packing up, wanting to not spend a moment in the wilderness longer and beat the traffic. Sunday afternoons are the worst for traffic for both rural and urban New Jack. Tourists are either heading back to Midway and people working the long weekend shifts on the arcologies are coming home for brief stints before setting off for the sea again. You hate being unemployed but you don’t miss the rat race of rushing to and from a location or the long hours away from home. The only good thing about this weekend is that the kids are exhausted.

“—sounds damn stupid.” Kanaya says, “Are you trying to get hurt again?”

“It’s not a stupid idea!” Feferi insists.

It’s the first time you’ve heard them bickering. You move around the Captor’s ratty car. Feferi, Kanaya, and Eridan are standing in a circle, speaking as Porrim and Tavros socialize. The jadeblood and the brownblood are distancing themselves from whatever’s going on over there while Gamzee is packing the Nitram car with their luggage.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Feferi nods and then looks at Eridan. She bites her lip, admitting, “Eridan thinks he might have come up with something to help with my fits.”

“And I think it’s a dangerous idea that might make things worse.” Kanaya says.

You fold your arms, looking at Feferi and Eridan like they’re kids again planning something both dangerous and stupid. “What exactly are you planning on doing?”

“Feferi’s fits are caused by the dead queen in her head.” Eridan says, “It’s just like how Karkat had fits when he was dealing with his own memory issue. It some kind of…overload, like Karkat and Feferi’s brains can’t store enough information. Karkat was able to ease his issue using psionic dampeners but his memories aren’t as aggressive and he can remember them. Feferi can’t so something must be different. The queen must still think she’s alive, so she thinks she’s in control.”

“You make it sound like Feferi is being haunted by a ghost,” Kanaya says, “rather than what this actually is: a mental condition.”

“Kan, you have to admit this situation is a little more than abnormal.” Eridan says, “We’ve tried all kinds of things to help Fef, so why not something a little more out of the ordinary? What’s the harm in it?”

“The harm is that you could do more damage chasing ghosts.” Kanaya says, “Let’s not forget what happened to the original Egbert trailer--”

“Oh gods, Kan, that was a _year_ ago--” Eridan groans.

“And you still sunk it with your voodoo bullshit!” Kanaya says.

“Hold it!” Feferi says. Eridan and Kanaya look at her and her hands are knotted on her hips, “I’m tired of everyone talking like I’m not in the room. Just because I’m exhausted doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion and I…” She exhales. “I want to try this. Trying this isn’t going to do any harm and that’s why we’re letting you know about this. We want to be safe when we try this. We’re going to practice.”

“Practice what exactly?” Kanaya looks at you and you add, “I’m not saying I’m going along with this but I want to know exactly what you’re doing.”

“It’s easy,” Eridan says and he has a wicked smile on his face. Immediately you think of Dualscar plotting with Mindfang or your mother on some deed that’s going to make them all filthy as aquatic aristocrats. “We’re going to drown the old queen.”

When they say it out loud, it sounds fucking crazy but everything in your life is crazy right now. Why not add another tablespoon in of batshit?

“Sure. Why not.” You concede, “Let’s drown a queen.”

Kanaya looks at you. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.” You admit, “But honestly, I think our whole family’s crazy. Why not try a crazy solution?”

Kanaya opens her mouth and then shuts it. You guess she can’t argue with that after all the other things that are going on. Then her shoulders sink down and she looks at Feferi.

“Alright. We’ll try it.” Kanaya whispers, “As long as its…safe.”

Feferi smiles and moves in close, hugging her matesprit. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

You look at the two hugging and think of a scene that no one else could have imagined: descendants of the Dolorosa and the Condesce hugging warmly, romantically, and completely trusting one another. It’s like something out of an optimistic fairytale. Eventually, even you can’t take how red their love is and decide to check the car over. You make sure the keys are in the engine, the tank is full, and that Momeju is in her car seat completely secure. Momeju is bent slightly, eyes shut and sleeping with the window rolled down. She’s completely adapted to the uncomfortable warmth of summer.   

You rest your hands on the steering wheel, eyes half shut. Even though the car is still, you can imagine moving ahead down the long road with nothing chaining you to where you are.

In that moment you know you have to leave New Jack. It’s not running but relocating, going to find your own space to carve out for yourself without anyone’s child you have to watch over. You know what you have to do.

You just have to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I walk slowly into myself, through a forest of empty suits of armor.”  
> Tomas Transtromer


End file.
